84. magical realism inspires magical procrastination

I think books are my crack.  I really do.  Instead of facing my blasted homework as I should... finals week is looming closer and closer, I said to myself, "i'll just finish my book, then i'll feel better."  if that isn't an addict's statement, i dont know what is.  I am nearing the end (as in 30 pages away) of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude and it was an interesting, albeit confusing read.  I think I can see in this book the style that must have taken some part in inspiring the strange salman rushdie.  while it is confusing and sometimes grotesque, magical realism is the bomb.  the author describes a normal person's day, in an average portrayal of the world, then BAM! somebody just floats up into the air into infinity while they are helping someone fold a sheet in the courtyard.  you never see these instances coming, nor do you really know what has happened while you are reading it, but then you think "wait a second..." and re-read a few lines and realize that the book is crazy (in a good way).  there were gypsies (give me your tears..... oh borat, how you slay me), flying carpets, massacres, butterflies (yep, rushdie had definitely read this before becoming a writer) that appeared around one person and their memory, 200 year old people, glowing gold, and my favorite so far, a pool filled with champagne!  so delightful.  i have no idea what surprise awaits me in the next 30 or so pages as the book ends, although pretty much every one of the family members has locked themselves up in some form of solitude and died (or lived for hundreds of years)*sorry, but this wasn't a spoiler, if you haven't read it, you definitely know that most of the characters will die at some point.  and, as i still have 30 pages, not everyone has died.  so there.  i will disagree with the critic who said that this book should be required reading right after the book of Genesis, though.  that's kind of sacrilidge.  not cool.  nor did i think it was that over-the-top required reading fantastic.  but what do i know? 

i like to read blue books (but not write in them)

im exhausted.  why am i up at 3:22 in the morning then? you ask... who knows.  watching a peaceful sleeper only seems to make the insomnia worse too.  look how cozy and comfortable and utterly sound asleep that person is.  and me?  i am awake.  typing to the sweet sounds of gentle snoring.  (which is actually kind of cute).  i haven't finished a book yet to be typing about that.... i am in the middle of 'quiet your mind' by john selby, 'a thousand acres' by jane smiley, and 'the satanic verses' by rushdie.  interestingly enough, both covers of the first two listed are blue.  as are about half of the other covers of the books from previous blog entries.  i wonder if this is purely coincidence?  or do publishers realize that these newer novels should  be blue in order to boost sales as blue is a calming color that makes you put down your guard and spend money??  or am i drawn to the books with blue on the spine- thinking maybe a little blue will soothe me and kick depression into a tailspin.  who knows?  anywho, i'm going to go enojy a few pages of a thousand acres and hopefully get back to you soon with a detailed report on why or why not i agree or disagree with the critics' choice to award it a pulitzer.  du du duuuuhhhhh til next week* m

my last sigh (of the night)

wow.  i'm a little bit disturbed.  and strangely relieved and at peace at the same time.  i suppose salman rushdie has that effect on people.  how else could he have gotten padma lakshmi??   

The Moor's Last Sigh by Salman Rushdie

this book was frightening to me.  not so much in the traditional sense of a horror movie or car crash- but more like watching a car crash in a movie.  it is psychologically upsetting, however you aren't entirely involved- you are not in the sphere of influence necessary for total fear that will stick with you when you go to bed at night.  i may be getting a little too philosophical.... sorry about that.  this book wasn't as much of a mind fuck as The Satanic Verses which may stay with me for the rest of my life- the images of the butterflies on the pilgrimmage to Meccah and the man transforming into a goat in the back of a van..... those will be with me for a while.  when i am old and gray, recounting stories of my youth in a nursing home, i will probably talk about these twisted fairy tales.  grimm's tales for english speaking indians.  that's what salman rushdie writes.  yes, that's it.  this might not make sense to you, but i can definitely feel the sprout of an idea here.  rushdie writes memorable shit.  'nuff said.  how could anyone possibly live in such dystopias?  i'm about to read cormac mccarthy's the road (not looking forward to the post-apocalyptic horrors shared between man and son, but my group members insist.... what could i say?).  maybe i am just on a dystopic kick.  i wonder if india is really like this?  surely not- no where can be so corrupt and violent, right?  with drugs being smuggled in baby powder shipments and artists mixing with politicians to result in murderous fueds and trickery- husbands killing wives and real life romeo and juliet mix ups.  does such a place exist?  is this the world we live in? i sure hope not.  and if it is, i'm parking myself in montana.  oh wait, i forgot about the unibomber though.... (i swear me and my friend found his abandoned hide out in the woods when we were kids....)
alright, thats enough for tonight.  it's best i quit thinking and go do some school work.  ha.
good night*